


Irreplaceable

by CoatNTails



Category: MDZS, Mo Dao Zu Shi, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Dark Imagery, Existential Crisis, Fluff, Gay Sex, Kisses, Kissing, Lan Qiren is really super glad that the Jingshi is far away from everyone else's room, Lan Wangji is glad to have his necromancer boyfriend back, Lan Xichen would be giving his little brother high-fives if he wasn't being a sad boi in seclusion, Love Scene, M/M, Nightmares, Reincarnation, Romance, So many kisses, Wei Wuxian is glad to be back, all the kisses, domestic husbands, food is love, is it warm in here or is it just me, lying smiles, oh look they're undressing, ok, soul vs body, the burial mounds, too many words dedicated to describing a certain guqin player's hands, until suddenly the fluff gets steamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoatNTails/pseuds/CoatNTails
Summary: This fic follows the events of a previous work,A Window of Silk and Paper.The Yiling Laozu has been resurrected in a new body. The Sects are scrambling to pick up the pieces after the death of the Chief Cultivator. Reunited, with their true feelings revealed to one another, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have returned together to Gusu.In the peaceful sanctuary of the Jingshi, the two of them are learning what it is like to be together, to love one another, and to be happy - even if one of them is still plagued by ghosts from the past, and struggling with how to live in a stolen body he doesn't recognize.
Relationships: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian
Comments: 9
Kudos: 102





	Irreplaceable

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by someone in the comments of A Window of Silk and Paper, who mentioned that they'd like to see Wei Wuxian discovering the portrait of himself and reacting to it. This takes place after the end of The Untamed / MDZS, and mostly tracks with the novel - WWX has returned to Cloud Recesses with LWJ instead of traveling abroad on his own. There are, however, a few nods to the TV show, such as the bunny lantern. 
> 
> **Special note to anyone bothered by disturbing imagery** \- this fic begins with a nightmare. Things happen to Wei Wuxian that are not nice. There is fear, suffocation, bodily harm, and claustrophobic imagery. Please skip to the words "I am here" if any of this is going to bother you.
> 
>  **Special note to anyone who enjoyed A Window of Silk and Paper but who is sensitive to sexual content / themes** \- this fic is still very soft and sweet, but there are depictions of physical intimacy. Can't help it. LWJ and WWX can't keep away from each other, and there are no censors here to smack my hand. If you'd still like to read this but want to skip the steamy stuff, sexy time begins a little bit after the words "It is irreplaceable", and ends around the time LWJ says "...What is it?"
> 
> Please come find me on Tumblr at my [MDZS sideblog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/scentofsandalwood) and my [main blog](https://coatntails.tumblr.com/).
> 
> P.S. Comments light up my life. Also they lead to more fics, apparently.

* * *

He couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t the nauseating, charnel smell of the Tortoise shell. That would have been  preferable. Such a stench was unpleasant - unpleasant enough that it might even distract you in battle - but still, you could master yourself and breath through it.  Here , though, it was different. Here the air was stale, musty - dead. Dead air that stifled him like a cloth over his face.

The soil ground into his palms like glass, ashy and full of sharp splinters of bone.

Pain stabbed through him, wracking his body with every breath, every movement. His ribs must have broken in the fall. And lower, the dull ache, wetness seeping through his tunic - his sutures had torn. He was bleeding again.

But worst of all - worse even than gasping for just one full breath of air that never came - was the screaming. It filled his ears, surrounded him. Pressed in on him from every side. A hellish chorus of voices full of pain and grief and _fury —_

_Wei… Wuxian…_

He groped ineffectually for Suibian. It wasn’t there. He had no sword. And even if it had been there, at his waist where it belonged, he no longer had the power to use it. Eyes wide with horror, he clawed his way across the ashy ground. He had nothing to defend himself. He had to hide. He had to escape. The cries of the dead rang endlessly in his ears, and the earth rippled beneath him like something below was trying to emerge.

_Wei Wuxian…!_

They called to him in a hundred thousand different voices, wailing and sobbing and shrieking his name an inch away from his ear.

_Wei Wuxian!_

Hands clawed at his body, hooked fingers catching in his clothes, curling around his ankles, raking over his heaving chest. Wei Wuxian’s eyes rolled in terror. Panic coursed through him and gave him the strength to break free. Despite the pain, he scrambled to his feet and ran without even looking where he was going, stumbling over roots. The dry earth roiled. Decaying limbs, some no more than articulated bones, burst from the soil, grasping for him, clutching him, trying to drag him back down.

_Wei Wuxian,_ they moaned, the sound all around him, digging its way inside of him, ringing in his skull. _Help us! Save us!Free us!Give us revenge… Revenge… Revenge! Wei Wuxian!_

He couldn’t breathe.

He fell, hard, and felt the wound in his belly split wider. Clawing hands pinned him to the ashy ground.

“Lan Zhan!” He didn’t mean to say it. He certainly didn’t mean to scream it. But the name burst from again him in a strangled cry completely beyond his control, “Lan Zhan! _Lan Zha-_ “

“I am here.”

The deep voice thrummed into his consciousness, scattering the ghosts that clung to him.

“Wei Ying. I am here. Wake up.”

The light blinded him momentarily, but then Lan Wangji’s face swam into focus. Sweet air filled his lungs with every ragged breath. It was cool, and fresh, and laced with the familiar scent of sandalwood.

The painful flood of adrenaline slowly receded. His wide eyes blinked and calmed, and trembling fingers uncurled from their death-grip on the bedsheets. Impulsively, Wei Wuxian touched his abdomen, but the pain that had been there had vanished with the rest of the phantoms. There wasn’t even a scar to feel … just the unmarked skin of his new body hiding the fact that something was missing beneath.

A cool cloth was pressed to his forehead, dabbing gently at the sweat beaded there. Wei Wuxian lifted his hand to touch the outstretched arm that tended him. He wanted to clutch that white sleeve. He wanted to throw himself forward, bury himself against Lan Wangji’s chest, to cling and sob like a child. He was so grateful that he was really there, that he was no longer alone in that place, so grateful, so grateful… Instead, he let his hand drop back to the bed, and pulled in a deep, savoring breath of air.

“Bad dream,” he murmured, lips curving up in an embarrassed smile.

Lan Wangji searched his face a moment. His inscrutable eyes lingered on that smile. Such a smile could not be trusted. But he did not comment. Methodically, he dried the sweat from his brow, his cheeks, his neck, watching him relax as the nightmare released its grip. Lan Wangji had never asked what the nightmares were about, and Wei Wuxian had never offered to talk about them. Still … he could guess.

Wei Wuxian pulled in another lungful of air, just to savor it, and let it out in a slow sigh. “… You’re dressed,” he observed, looking at Lan Wangji through slitted eyes. His smile ticked up. “I slept in again. I am failing so miserably at this Gusu-Lan life. How late is it?”

“Nearly eight,” Lan Wangji replied, setting the cloth aside. He gathered his sleeve gracefully and reached out to retrieve a cup from beside the bed. “Here.”

A warm cup of tea was pressed into Wei Wuxian’s hands.

“Drink it,” Lan Wangji urged him gently.

Wei Wuxian lifted the cup to his lips obediently, and drank. The warm pottery felt good under his fingers, soothing them so they no longer trembled. He breathed in, pulling the aromatic steam into his lungs. So luxurious. He had taken little things like this for granted for so long. A cup of tea was so precious.

“Thanks, Lan Zhan,” he said, “It’s really good.”

Lan Wangji watched him drain the cup, watched the smile that played across his lips turn into something genuine. With satisfaction, he took the empty cup from his hands, and replaced it with a small bowl of gruel.

“Ai-ya,” Wei Wuxian complained, frowning at the bowl, “I just woke up. It’s too early to eat this.”

“Then wake up on time,” Lan Wangji said. He rose from the bed. “You whine about being hungry when you miss breakfast. Eat.”

Wei Wuxian clucked his tongue in disgust and looked down at the bowl of traditional Lan sect food. Plain rice porridge. No flavor in sight. Not even a vegetable for texture. “What does it matter when there is no meat here?” he grumbled. “How can anyone feel full.” Still, unappetizing as it seemed in that moment, this meal, too, was precious. He knew that. It was a feast compared to many of the meals of his past. Doubly precious, he thought, for it had surely been smuggled to him in defiance of all propriety. In Gusu, if one did not rise in time for breakfast, then one did not eat breakfast. Unless, of course, one was the favorite of second young master Lan Wangji.

“Eat,” Lan Wangji commanded.

With a disgruntled hum, Wei Wuxian tipped the bowl to his lips, pretending that it was a mighty sacrifice - and then hummed again in delight. To his surprise, it was not plain or bland at all. It actually had flavor. Lan Wangji must have added spices to it himself before giving it to him. That thought sent a warm trickle of pleasure through his body. He tipped the bowl further, finishing the rest with enthusiasm.

The food had the desired affect. As he watched, life and vibrancy returned to Wei Wuxian. Soon, he was chattering about the day to come, rising from the bed to wash and dress, filling the space around him with his indomitable presence. Nightmares were forgotten and the past was suppressed once again, forbidden to intrude on the miracle of the present.

_______________________________________

After only a few pleasant hours outside, the heavens opened, and an unexpected downpour of rain forced them back into the Jingshi. Lan Wangji took the opportunity to study. Wei Wuxian, however, flitted restlessly around the room. His most recent effort to fend off boredom consisted mainly of rummaging through Lan Wangji’s belongings. Having been in Cloud Recesses for several weeks, he’d already searched the place several times, so the hope of finding any more secret spaces under the floor boards was slim.When questioned, however, Lan Wangji refused to tell him if there were any other hidden places, and that gave him hope.

A shelf full of books revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Though Wei Wuxian did pause to write notes on a few slips of paper and tuck them inside the books at random for Lan Wangji to find later. His next target was a seemingly innocent trunk that was tucked behind the corner of a screen. Opening it revealed several neatly folded sets of blue and white robes. He sat back on his heels. These were old. He recognized them. Hazy memories of Lan Wangji glaring at him on a roof… Of kneeling beside him as they endured the pain of punishment together… He reached out to brush his fingers over the material of the robes. A riotous smile broke over his face to think of what the Lan Zhan of the past might have done if he could see his older self, if he’d known that Wei Wuxian would someday live with him in the Jingshi - if he’d known that someday he would allow him to share his bed.

Lan Wangji glanced up at the laugh that erupted from the other side of the room, but did not turn his head.

Handling them carefully, Wei Wuxian pulled the robes from the trunk. He felt the urge to push his face into them, to see if they still smelled like him, but he resisted. It had been almost twenty years, anyway; they would smell like nothing but cedarwood and dust. He set them aside. Beneath was a treasure trove of youthful objects. Scrolls and books, musical scores, some recognizable as Lan Wangji’s hand and some not. Taking up quite a lot of space beneath these was a ragged piece of painted paper. It was torn at the edges - a scrap from some larger object, and the paper had yellowed badly. Holding it up with care, he could barely discern the decoration - a rabbit.

Memories bubbled up from long ago. Lan Xichen had broken them into small groups to make lanterns together. This was part of his own lantern. He’d painted the rabbit, because he’d had a hunch that Lan Wangji liked them. It would have fallen on the Lan disciples to recover the lanterns after their flight - a practice that kept Cloud Recesses pristine and also challenged their skills as hunters - and Lan Wangji must have found his… _He really does like rabbits, huh_ , Wei Wuxian thought, inordinately pleased at the thought that he’d made something that the young Lan Wangji had liked. He smiled at the bunny on the paper, thinking how far away that memory felt… Such a long time ago… truly a lifetime past. The paper in his hand was a relic from a time when he’d been sure what he wanted to do with his life. When the path before him had been broad, and well lit. A time when he truly had no regrets, and thought he never would.

Wei Wuxian felt a brief pang of longing for that day. If he could go back to a time before… before he’d lost… before he’d…

He looked up, away from his thoughts. Across the room. Lan Wangji sat serenely at the table, turning the page of his book. _No_ , Wei Wuxian thought with a soft smile. _There is no going back. Perhaps it is impossible to live without regret. But look where I am now…!_

He replaced the scrap of lantern inside the trunk, and began looking through the books and scrolls. Most he only glanced at, handling them cherishingly because of who they belonged to. The music, though, he read through thoroughly. Some of those he set aside, hoping that Lan Wangji might play them for him later. At last, he came to two scrolls that were bundled together. Curiously, he untied the cord that bound them, and unrolled the smaller of the two to look - and froze.

“… Lan Zhan … You kept it?”

Lan Wangji lifted his head.

Wei Wuxian stared at a scroll, a look of incandescent delight on his face. He glanced up, and then back down, and laughed. If he took out a brush and painted another portrait of Lan Wangji right that moment, it would look the same.

Realizing what it was he had discovered, Lan Wangji’s expression softened. “Mnn.”

“Lan Zhan! I thought you crumpled this up and threw it away!” Wei Wuxian beamed. “Didn’t you hate me back then? Look, you even mounted it on a scroll, like a real painting… Hahahaha, A moment after I gave you this, I heard you curse for the first time.”

“ …Mnn.”

“Actually I think it was the only time. Have you ever cursed since then?”

“…Yes.”

Wei Wuxian glanced up at him with a quirked eyebrow, suddenly curious. He would have to ask abut that again later. But the portrait drew his gaze back. He smiled brightly at the picture for another moment, reaching out to touch the flower he’d painted in Lan Wangji’s hair. Then he glanced back down at the scroll it had been bundled with.

“What is this other one …?”

He leaned in to retrieve it, then set it down beside the first. When he unrolled it, his jaw dropped. His own reflection smiled up at him from the scroll. Except that it was not his reflection anymore. It was his original body, rendered in what seemed like living, breathing detail.

“ … It’s me!” he exclaimed. He stared at it in wonder, blinking as he realized that it was familiar. Some parts of his old life were so hazy, like a dream… more so the closer the memory was to his death. “…I remember this, I think… the artist, and her husband the farmer. And their son, who had corpse poisoning. Their village was overrun with walking corpses. They taught me their country cures… Lan Zhan, how in the world did you get this?”

Lan Wangji shut his book and stood, moving to kneel with Wei Wuxian beside the scrolls. “I used to travel, for night hunts,” he said, omitting the truer reason for his travels. “I passed through their village. The couple and their young daughter had been ambushed by roaming corpses. They offered their hospitality in gratitude for my help, and gave this to me as a parting gift.”

Wei Wuxian _tsked_ loudly. “How can one family attract so much trouble. And here I thought I was special. Maybe the walking corpses are bait. Perhaps they collect cultivators. Did she paint your portrait as well? Must not have, or you’d have replaced this one for sure.” He lightly flicked the corner of his old drawing. Lan Wangji reached out a broad hand to shield it from further abuse.

“It is irreplaceable,” he said.

The words sent a warm flush of pleasure coursing through Wei Wuxian. It burned in his cheeks.

“Oh,” he said, pretending he could not feel his own blush. “Is it, though? I could paint you another, right now. Go pose for me.”

“Not the same,” rumbled Lan Wangi. Wei Wuxian could feel the heavy weight of his eyes on him, could feel them taking note of his flush, and it made the heat spread down to his neck.

“Lan Zhan. Doesn’t the Lan Sect forbid excessive attachment to earthly things? You should throw this away.”

“I will not,” Lan Wangji said, voice low and deep.

Wei Wuxian looked up, meeting his gaze, and his heart skipped.

“…No…?” Wei Wuxian said, finding it suddenly harder to speak as he looked into Lan Wangji’s eyes. “…Aren’t you afraid…? So much attachment… won’t it prevent you from advancing? You… you who are a model to others, so close to heaven already… what if these earthly things hold you down… what if you remain trapped here, unable to ascend?”

The warm pleasure that had pooled low in Wei Wuxian’s body stirred and became the fluttering wings of a thousand butterflies as Lan Wangji raised his hand to touch him. Calloused finger tips caressed his face, brushed over his lips, cupped his cheek, urged his chin to tilt upwards so his lips could meet the soft press of Lan Wangji’s own mouth.

“…I am not afraid,” Lan Wangji whispered.

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes, and the jumble of thoughts swirling in his head simply fell away. There was nothing but the smell of sandalwood, the touch of a long fingered hand on his skin, the sound of rain pouring onto the roof of the Jingshi, the jingling of the little summer bell that hung from the eves as the water trickled over it. And then there was nothing at all but the softness ofLan Wangji’s lips, w arming as he pressed kiss after kiss against Wei Wuxian’s own. The soft sounds of their kisses, secret and precious, mingled with the patter of rain. Slowly, Wei Wuxian turned his body, snaking his arms around the white-robed cultivator before him, and Lan Wangji responded by pulling him closer.

Entwined together, even the world around them disappeared. The rain, the Jingshi, the objects littering the floor, even the thousands of Lan Sect rules all faded from their consciousness. The world narrowed down to the wet press of lips, the grazing of teeth against soft flesh, the taste of another’s mouth, breathing the same breath, discovering how many times they could pass it between them without coming up for more air. Lan Wangji slid one hand between them, slipping deftly into the opening of Wei Wuxian’s robes to make contact with his bare skin. His palm sought out the place where a brand scar had once been, finding only smooth, unmarred skin.

With a heart beating wildly beneath it.

Smiles could lie. Cold, impassive faces could lie. But a thrumming heart did not. The pounding he felt beneath his hand filled him with excitement. With a sharp inhale through his nose, the irreproachable figure of Hanguang Jun vanished. His upright posture folded as he deepened the kiss, leaning over Wei Wuxian to possess his mouth. His rigid legs fell from the kneeling position, splaying lower. He pulled Wei Wuxian closer, tugging him up into his lap, and it drew an urgent sound from the other man. Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled tightly in Lan Wangji’s robes. He tugged at them like he was thinking of yanking them off. Unashamedly, he rolled his hips, luxuriating in the crush of their bodies together, and moaned into the kiss at the sweet feeling of that friction. For a long, burning moment, they both lost themselves in that desperate, urgent, devouring kiss.

Then Wei Wuxian decided that he’d had just about enough of clothing.

His hands struck like snakes at the sash holding Lan Wangji’s robes shut. Though he was allowed no respite from the kiss, and could not look down, it did not take him long to unravel it. His own belt was easier, and sprang open after only a few moments of furious tugging. Yanking and clawing at the robes, he forced them open just enough that skin could rub against bare skin.

Lan Wangji sucked in a sharp breath when he felt the next roll of Wei Wuxian’s hips, hard proof of desire rubbing against his own, both slick and slippery with their mutual excitement. It drew a sound from his throat that was loud, urgent, and completely undignified. The hand at his back slid down, fingers clutching bruisingly hard at Wei Wuxian’s hip to pull him in tight against him, his own hips tilting up for more. Wei Wuxian writhed in his lap. Every movement was full of teasing pleasure. A squeeze of their bodies, but not quite enough, a rub over the other’s taut stomach, almost, but not quite. The kiss became frantic and full of sound, each voicing his pleasure into the other’s mouth between desperate gasps for breath. 

Lan Wangji whipped his other hand out from between them, allowing the length of their bodies to press flush, and gripped Wei Wuxian’s hips with both hands. Resisting the wild writhing of Wei Wuxian’s body, he forced them into a steady grind, moaning as other man picked up the rhythm and shuffled up to clutch his shoulders for better leverage. His squeezing hands guided him, urging him to rock faster, to rub harder, his kiss becoming a hard nip of his bottom lip.

Some sounds escaped the muffling of the kiss. Some might even have been heard outside the Jingshi, over the pouring rain. But Lan Wangji did not care to silence them. His hands pushed and pulled, raked over Wei Wuxian’s back, savoring each new sound he could coax from him. He drank at his swollen lips, biting to feel his body jerk and grind harder. He drove him mercilessly, drove himself, until he felt Wei Wuxian shudder in his lap and cry out into his mouth. The hips held tight in his hands bucked, and wet heat splattered across both their stomachs.

Wei Wuxian’s body tensed in the throes of his orgasm, wanting to freeze, but Lan Wangji wouldn’t allow it. The broad hands clutching his hips forced them to keep moving, their bodies sliding freely against one another as their movement smeared his spending over their skin. For a moment, the pleasure was blinding. But it was close to becoming too intense. He bucked again in Lan Wangji’s grip, suddenly panicked that he would be pushed from pleasure to agony. But, thankfully, Lan Wangji didn’t take that long to follow. His shoulders hunched, his breath hitched, and with a burst of sound into Wei Wuxian’s mouth, he erupted, drenching their laps with his own hot gush.

They shivered through aftershocks in each other’s arms. And still they kissed, as if they needed that press of mouths to live.

It was Lan Wangji who was first to come up for breath. He pulled it in with great shuddering gasps, turning his face to nuzzle it into Wei Wuxian’s hair.

“Wei Ying,” he called from an inch away, a tremble in his deep voice.

“Lan Zhan…” came the answer in a breathless whisper. Wei Wuxian lifted his chin, stretching his neck in invitation and sighing when he felt Lan Wangji’s lips there.

“Mine,” Lan Wangji murmured against his neck.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian agreed in a low hiss, gritting his teeth as the kiss became a soft bite. Slowly, gradually, he loosened his grip so he could stroke over the expanse of Lan Wangji’s back. “Yours.”

Lan Wangji mimicked him, sliding his broad hands up the other man’s hips, his waist, his sinuous back, wrapping all the way around his body so he could enfold him completely in the circle of his arms.

“Love you,” Lan Wangji murmured, lips brushing across his skin, echoing the precious words spoken in the Guanyin temple, “…want you… can’t ever leave you…” He kissed up his neck to his jaw. “…You…” He kissed at the lobe of his ear, whispering into it, “Beloved.” Kisses soft as the patter of rain over his cheekbone, his temple, his brow. “… No one but you.”

A trail of whisper-soft kisses led him back to where he’d started - to warm lips, puffy and pink from the attention of Lan Wangji’s nipping teeth. He swept his tongue over them, tasting the bruised flesh, and then kissed them again. Gentle this time. Slow…But paused when Wei Wuxian didn’t respond. His eyes fluttered open, finding Wei Wuxian already looking at him from an inch away. Their lashes tangled together.

“ … What is it?” Lan Wangji asked.

Though he could not see it from so close, he felt the other man’s throat bob as he swallowed. He drew back far enough to see all of Wei Wuxian’s face, searching it fervently for any clue that something might be wrong.

“Wei Ying,” he prompted.

“A-am I,” Wei Wuxian began, pausing again to try and swallow his confusion. He twisted his neck to look down at the two scrolls on the floor, gaze lingering on each one. “… Am I irreplaceable, too?” Looking up at Lan Wangji, he searched his eyes for answers.

Lan Wangji’s brow twitched at the absurdity of the question. “Of course.” 

Wei Wuxian reached out to touch Lan Wangji’s face, letting himself marvel at how divinely beautiful he was for another long moment. The face of an immortal. Of a young god made flesh. As beautiful as he remembered. Wei Wuxian blinked. Lan Wangji was the same beautiful person that he had admired in a past life. But Wei Wuxian was not the same. Dropping his gaze, he glanced down again at the painting of his old body. A different face. A different body. The body of the Yiling Laozu. Impulsively, he felt at his chest, fingertips searching for the familiar ridges of the brand, touching instead the smooth chest of Mo Xuanyu.

“… Do you miss him?” Wei Wuxian asked, tilting his head towards the painting of his old self. “Don’t you wish that you were doing this with him, instead?”

Lan Wangji forced himself to turn away from Wei Wuxian long enough to regard the painting. He looked it over, eyes roving from one familiar detail to the next - the hands, the lips, the joyful, squinted eyes, the high cheek bones and slender waist. He took it all in. Then he looked back at the Wei Wuxian in his arms. “I used to,” he said. “But I don’t anymore. Because I have him back again. Right here.”

“But it is not the same me,” Wei Wuxian insisted. Lifting one hand between them, he pinched the flesh of the forearm revealed beneath the sleeve of his robe. “This body is not mine. It is Mo Xuanyu. Is it not Mo Xuanyu who has replaced me, in some way?”

Lan Wangji let out a laugh. The sound was so unfamiliar that Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Ridiculous” he said, his mouth turned up at the corners in a rare smile. “Wei Ying. Are you just a body? Am I?” He shook his sleeve back to pinch his own arm in similar place. “Does this define me? If so, which version?”

“Which version…?” Wei Wuxian asked in confusion.

“Once, I was an infant. A child. A young man who glared at you. In future, if I grow old, my hair will be gray. My teeth will fall out. I have changed. I will change. Which one is me?”

“But it isn’t the same, is it?” Blinking his eyes, Wei Wuxian looked again at the painting of his old self. “I’m not an older version of him… I’m someone completely different.”

“No,” Lan Wangji said with certainty. But he could see that his answer did not convince Wei Wuxian. He let out his breath through his nose.

“Look at me.” He paused until Wei Wuxian turned his eyes towards him. “Forget what you are thinking of. Instead, tell me what you see.”

Wei Wuxian let out his breath, looking at Lan Wangji with a crooked smile. “I’m not sure what game this is, but I will happily play,” he said. “What do I see… I see the most beautiful person in Gusu.”

The rare smile returned, tugging at Lan Wangji’s lips. “Go on,” he said.

“Hmm,” Wei Wuxian smiled back at him playfully, sure at this point that he desired to have his ego stroked, and willing to oblige. “I see silky black hair, always perfect without a single tangle - until times like now, when I can get my hands into it.” He watched for the twitch of that smile, making it his goal to see it grow. “I see skin pale as snow, smooth as jade, and soft as a rabbit’s ear. I see graceful brows, calm and untroubled, unless I can manage to sneak a forbidden book between the pages of your sacred texts. I see eyes… eyes like colored glass… like dark, rich honey… like the glimmer of light over woodgrain… like sunlight striking into deep amber…”

“There,” Lan Wangji murmured softly.

“What?” Wei Wuxian blinked. “Are you stopping me already? I haven’t gotten to your nose yet. Or your lips. I have quite a lot to say about those.”

Lan Wangji lifted his hand to caress Wei Wuxian’s cheek, softening that playful smile.

“…Ask me what I see,” Lan Wangji murmured, his voice so deep that Wei Wuxian thought he could feel it thrumming through the air in his lungs.

“What do you you see?” he whispered curiously.

“…hair, deep brown instead of black, lighter in color, and coarser than I remember. Eyes a different shape, rounder than before. Broader nose…” His fingertips moved from his hair to his eyes to his nose, punctuating each detail with a tender caress. “A softer cheek… lips more full than before… pinker… more suited to you when you pout.”

Though Wei Wuxian’s face had gone slack with pleasure at the touches, the last comment made him laugh, and pull an exaggerated pouty face. Seeing Lan Wangji smile at this, he smiled too, and it was the very same as the one depicted in the painting. The smile that ran rampant over his face and made his eyes squint almost shut. Lan Wangji’s breath caught to see it.

“…And still,” he murmured, “…there you are. Your face, when you look at my eyes, is the same face your old body wore when you saw someone you loved. Your smile, just now, is the same smile your old body had when you were happy, when you wanted others to be happy too. It is you, whatever body you are in. …And I will love this body… because now it is yours.”

Tears stung at the corners of Wei Wuxian’s eyes, and tightened his throat. “Lan Zhan,” he whispered, barely able to get the words out.

“I am here,” came the deep reply. Long fingers caressed his cheeks, wiping away the tears that fell. “I am yours. Now and always. Whether you look like Wei Wuxian, or Mo Xuanyu, or someone else entirely. Whether you have a Golden core, or do not. Whether we ascend to enlightenment… or remain here, forever on this earth. I will stay with you.”

The sight of Lan Wangji’s face blurred. Wei Wuxian tried to blink the tears from his eyes, but they flowed freely and would not stop. Knowing no smile on earth would hide them, he allowed himself to do just what he had wanted to do that morning. He buried his face against Lan Wangji’s neck, wrapping both arms tight around him, and he clung.

“I love you, so much,” he sobbed, voice muffled against his skin. “I love you more than anything.”

“…Mnn,” Lan Wangji said softly. He held him close, and let him cling for as long as he wanted.


End file.
